One Moment
by Psydon
Summary: Ganondorf's thoughts on the Super Smash Bros. tournament, his own part in it, and his demise at the hand and Arm Cannon of Samus Aran. This is my first story submitted to this site, so if the rating is incorrect I apologize. It was either this or K.


**One Moment**

From the moment she clicked the trigger, I knew it was over. In that moment all time seemed to come to a halt, allowing me this split-second to gaze upon my demise.

I looked at the large purple-and-black octagon on which we stood: pristine and showing not a single sign of battle since we'd started. It reminded me of our "master". Ever watching from beyond, snatching up heroes and villains from worlds unknown and placing them in mortal combat. Blood was shed, bones were broken, minds were traumatized, and lives were lost. And yet it, like its grand fighting scene, remained untouched, unaffected by the pain and suffering that I and my opponents had been forced into for no reason whatsoever. We knew not whether it was even capable of feeling the anguish that its "chosen fighters" felt. Perhaps it was simply as mindless as a robot, performing its task without err or any sort of thought. Every time I tried I contemplate its nature I felt more disgusted than I had the previous time, as my initial thoughts always centered on the audacity of its actions. I could never think further than that, because immediately after every fight was another.

And another.

And another.

I looked at my opponent. Though we had both given our all, there was no love lost or won between us. We had both slain our fair share; we knew that we had no choice but to duel to the death, over and over until something different happened. We had never even met or heard of each other before this terrible conflict. She had fought valiantly, and with a seemingly inhuman ferocity, flawlessly focused into each and every punch, kick and shot to my person, calculated with the unnerving, perfect precision of a trained sniper and the ruthlessness of a veteran assassin. I, too, had fought with valour, but all my power was rendered useless by the metal suit she wore. I could not even scratch the damn thing, let alone truly damage it! I, a man who could topple kingdoms with his fists alone, was no greater threat than an insect! Were I to harbour any negativity towards her, it would be because of that suit. I loathe weakness, and being made to seem weak, being humiliated, by a suit of armour, was a truly grand disgrace. Throughout our fight I saw through her green visor a pair of human eyes casting a hawk-like stare; as cold, hard and unforgiving as the metal suit.

A normal man would have been terrified. I felt pity for her.

She had said during our battle that she didn't care about taking the lives of others; that she killed for money as a living. I had slain many people in my past, for many different reasons. But never for such an empty, trite, easily-gained-and-lost thing as money. A woman with her power could be the Queen of countless worlds! Humans would quake and submit on bended knee before her supreme might! She would have no need of money when she could have anything she wanted at a moment's notice! I could not understand how anybody could be satisfied with such a life, but perhaps within her heart lay a truly glacial darkness; one far colder, deeper and blacker than mine.

I looked at the shining orb between us; a large blue-white sphere of energy that had been shot out of my opponent's arm-borne cannon. It felt fitting that one who wielded dark magic as I did would be defeated by a burst of light; a light sprayed forth from a dark tunnel to send me to the light at the end of my own tunnel. But this was not the way I'd wanted it to end. I had my own plans, after all. In addition to all of the other remaining fighters, there were two people in particular that I had to destroy if I was to return to my homeland able to conquer it without the slightest bit of noteworthy resistance. Or perhaps, if such was not my fate, at least I could have tried, and met my greatest archenemy on the battlefield, sword to sword, and fallen with the grace and majesty of a dark king of legend. But here, I would not even perish in my homeland, let alone by my nemesis or with any sort of grace. For in this twisted, ever-changing world we fought in, to die meant to be literally catapulted off one's feet and flung like an unwanted doll into the abyss.

The shot hit me square in the chest, and immediately I was sent into the air, pieces of my devastated armour flying from my body. I had not even time to close my eyes and shed a single glorious tear, as I traveled over a mile in less time than it took to blink before I hit a sort of invisible point-of-no-return and simply exploded. As my body was wracked with searing pain and torn apart by the cataclysm, visions of a future untold filled what was left of my burning brain. Armies I would never lead, lands I would never see, wives I would never have, children I would never raise; a life I would now never continue to live.

From the moment she clicked the trigger, it all took less than a second.

Epilogue

Daemon's left eye twitched uncontrollably as the digitized voice echoed from his television's speakers:

THIS GAME'S WINNER IS…SAMUS!

With a scream he rose to his feet and tossed his controller to the ground, looking at the poorly-dressed man sitting next to him.

"5 TIMES IN A ROW! You cheap butthole, how in the hell did you do that?"

The hobo could not respond save for a grunt or two, as he was trying to eat his controller, which looked like a purple banana in his hands to his cocaine-addled self.


End file.
